Stories Matter In Business Too

It was 2004 and I was standing in front of twenty or so college students, fielding their questions about resumes and interview techniques, when someone asked the question that changed everything:

“As a manager, what matters most to you?”

The room was at the University of Houston. Enron country. A lot of these kids had watched their parents become victims of corporate values that turned out to be meaningless words on a wall. I immediately knew that my gut answers of “employees are appreciating assets” and “authentic values matter” were going to fall on deaf ears and I’d lose them completely.

So I told them a story instead.

The Mistake That Taught Me My Most Important Career Lesson

“After I graduated from the University of Houston and started my first job, I made a pretty costly mistake on my first project. Not catastrophic, but noticeable enough for my manager to call me in. I expected some hardcore scolding, maybe a ‘boneheaded move’ comment, and the thought did cross my mind that I might get fired. What happened instead rewired my understanding of leadership forever.

He said, ‘Today was educational for both of us. You made a pretty big mistake, but I’m not going to yell about it. I believe employees are assets that appreciate. Yelling would be a negative investment. The best thing I can do is explain why it matters, then give you the freedom to make it again.’

I was puzzled. Freedom to make future mistakes?

‘Smart, confident employees create better results all around,’ he said. And he meant it.”

All the students leaned forward. Not because I’d given them data about employee retention rates or ROI on human capital investment. But because I’d given them something they could feel.

We All Understand Universal Stories

Here’s what that moment meant: data asks you to understand. Stories ask you to remember what you’ve already felt.

Those students hadn’t made costly corporate mistakes yet. But they’d all disappointed someone who could have punished them and didn’t. They’d all been given grace when they expected judgment. The details were mine, but the feeling was universal.

This is why stories work where data doesn’t. Your brain literally can’t tell the difference between a story you’re hearing and an experience you’re having. Scientists call it neural coupling. When I told those students about my manager giving me permission to fail, their brains practiced what psychological safety feels like.

Stories aren’t just communication tools. They’re experience simulators.

And yet, walk into any boardroom, any strategy session, any sales pitch, you still see slides stuffed with numbers, intended to convince someone of an outcome without telling the story behind them. Meanwhile, the real persuasion is happening at the coffee machine, where someone’s telling a story about a customer who said something that changed how they think about the product.

The Truth Nobody Admits: Facts Support The Stories We Are Telling Ourselves

Unfortunately, we aren’t taught how to translate the facts, figures, and numbers into meaningful stories, so the most valuable bits stay hidden behind spreadsheets. We make emotional decisions look rational. We pretend business isn’t personal.

But business is just humans trying to solve problems for other humans. And humans don’t run on data. We run on stories.

The next time you need people to care, skip the slides (or at least don’t start with them). Tell them about the customer who called last week and changed how you think about your product. The mistake you made that’s going to save everyone else from making it. The pattern you noticed that nobody else is seeing.

The story isn’t what you tell while waiting for the real meeting to start. The story is the meeting. Everything else is just formatting.

That manager who gave me permission to fail? Twenty plus years later, I’m still making mistakes. Better ones, more expensive ones, more educational ones. But I’m making them without fear. Because he didn’t just teach me about failure. He gave me a story about it. And stories, unlike policies, never expire.